Dancing in the Dark
by The USS Ficcelsior
Summary: Also known as The Pirate's Slow and Methodical Alternate Plan


" _Wait until they get a load of me."_

\- Jack Nicholson

* * *

Who could have known what ancient mystical hieroglyphs had been scribed onto this stone wall? Maybe they were directions for finding the hiding spot of all of the world's greatest riches. Maybe it was the secret of immortality. Maybe it was a prophecy warning of the impending doom of all life on the planet. Only a being of omnipotent power and knowledge of the universe would be able to decipher it.

Shantae was bent over and leaning closer toward the mysterious wall as she recited the foreign inscriptions under her breath. Her waist occasionally pivoted to a silent beat as she traced her finger across the writing and studied vigorously. Risky stood patiently behind her, arms crossed and eyes glancing downward at the gorgeous view as she nodded in secret approval.

Instantly, the half-genie ceased her pelvic fidgeting and glared over her shoulder.

"What lousy trick are you trying to play this time, Risky?" She asked with an angry voice. "I knew I never should have trusted you for a second!"

"Huh?" The pirate queen blinked.

"This Sanskrit is about as authentic as Rottytops's tan lines!" the genie snapped back. "The wording makes no sense. The verb tense is all wrong. Half of these characters aren't written in the same style. This one's scribbled backwards in crayon!"

"Oh, bugger." Risky groaned and slapped her hand to her forehead. Her ruse was up. "There was supposed to be this great show where you tell me you know how to dispel the inscription, you shake your little flippers around and use your genie voodoo, and I spring the trap when you're the most conductive. But you just had to be Little Miss Expert Archeologist and ruin the fun like you always do."

"Nice try, Olivia Newton-Jabroni." Shantae rolled her eyes, finally standing up straight and spinning around. "But you should have known nothing gets past the greatest genie in all Sequin Land!"

"That's where you're wrong, bananas-for-brains," Risky sneered. "I'll just have to do this the greedy way."

She reached behind her belt and withdrew a mysterious artifact. Cast out of shining black metal, it was large enough that Risky could it in both hands but small enough to pose as a harmless household trinket.

"A lamp?" Shantae snorted in disbelief. "You've got me really shaking in my harem pants now."

"An _enchanted_ lamp," Risky corrected. "The kind used for imprisoning unruly genies until they learn to respect their masters. Luckily for me, this old one I found in a shipwreck has never been used. I had to sacrifice a dozen Tinkerbats and slice off my little toe to have it bound to my name. What do you say we condense you back down into a blob of magical energy so we can start flipping your arcane polarities?"

Shantae took a step back.

"You… you think locking me up in a stuffy teacup for a couple of days is going make me serve you?" She asked. Her words were brave, but there was a certain trepidation rising in her voice.

Risky rubbed the lamp lightly with her fingers. Shantae's eyes widened as she suddenly felt her left hip being gently tugged in the direction of the spout.

"Who said anything about serving _me?_ " Risky said. "You'll make a great heirloom if I let you soak in there for a few decades. Long enough for your human traces to die off so all that's left to shake up in there is your genie half. You're going to be a priceless artifact once all those years of isolation and darkness burn through you. I'll have you infused with so much black magic that you won't even remember what it's like to be free."

Shantae's feet disappeared, dissolving into a pink tornado that funneled straight into the lamp's tiny spout. Her legs followed suit, rapidly losing their form and getting drawn into the lamp. She winced when the widest part of her hips had some trouble squeezing in. Everything between the waist and the underarms continued to slip through like butter, until she got stuck again at the shoulders.

"I guess this is so long, Sham-tae," Risky said with a smirk. "I'll probably be a stack of dusty bones by the time you ever see the light of day again!"

Shantae shouted in panic in the last few seconds her head and her semi-solid neck were still sticking out of spout.

"Everyone is going to know you were behind this! Sky will search everywhere for me! Bolo knows I'd never just up and disappear! The Mayor is expecting me to host his hair whipping contest tomorrow! What is your excuse going to be?"

"I'll tell them I scuttled your booty." Risky smirked. She tapped Shantae on the top of her head to help her the rest of the way into the lamp. "Now in ya go, monkey girl."

"CURSE YOU, RISKY BOOOOOooooots!" Shantae's screams faded into oblivion as her last wisps of hair were sucked into the spout. Risky blew off a puff of violet smoke wafting out of the lamp and rested her palm over the lid.

"And I'll curse _you_ every day of the week… literally," she whispered as she pet her treasure.

The lamp rattled every few seconds in her hands. Shantae may have been the stubborn type who would fight with everything she had to get out, but even she couldn't change the basic order of the universe. There were always ways to cure the problem of a misbehaving genie.

Risky twirled the handle of the lamp around her ring finger before tucking it into her leather sash. She walked out of the room with a small snicker.

* * *

Rowdy snuck through the shadowy vault with little more than the light from her torch and the soft jingle of the cutlasses in her sash following her. She frantically waved her pistol hand over her head to swat away the endless cobwebs that haunted the place, muttering "Blasted eight-legged blubbers" in a high-pitched growl as she struggled.

The murky narrow hallway led her to a forsaken antechamber. Faded mildew-stained tapestries covered all the walls, with the center attraction being a macabre painting of a helpless mermaid being torn apart by a swarm of sharks. Rowdy fondly remembered the artwork from all the times she had been led through this place as a little girl.

She slashed image apart with a swift cross cut through the canvas. Chilling wind howled into her face from the secret tunnel beyond the painting. She stepped through the tattered picture frame and continued on her way.

She arrived in a small room housing a ring of twelve red magic candles that crackled with eternal flames. This was where twelve pirate shamans had gathered to spit their most powerful hexes each and every day for the past 144 years.

In the center of the candles was a lonely altar holding a wooden box. Twelve strips of paper covered in arcane runes were bound tightly around the box, each verse scrawled in a different obscure tongue. The seals once resonated brightly with pure contempt, but now they were just faded words on moldy paper. All of their power had soaked through the pores of the wood for countless ages and rotted whatever was inside.

Underneath the strips, the box was locked shut with twelve rugged iron shackles. The only other thing left on the altar was a plain postcard stapled to an old ribbon. The strings looked like they had been the favored chew toy of various rats over the ages. Corruption and decay had somehow become part of the chamber's intended décor rather than just being the result of lazy housekeeping.

 _Granny always said she was the obsessive type_. Rowdy giggled to herself.

She approached the table without the smallest regard for caution. Lifting the postcard in her hand, she read.

 _I bequeath this legacy to my sweet grandchild on the eve of the first full moon after their 16_ _th_ _birthday. The greatest treasure in the world is yours to do as you wish. Signed, the Most Deplorable Captain R. Boots_

 _P.S.: This better be worth it. It cost a fortune to hire decent people to keep looking after this damned thing after I bite the big one._

Rowdy plucked a small dagger from a scabbard on her thigh and masterfully picked apart all twelve locks. A few deft flicks of her wrist sliced all the arcane tapings off of the box. She slowly opened the lid.

There was nothing but eerie swirling blackness inside. Both of Rowdy's hands reached down into the dark and felt something smooth, warm, and curvy resting at the base of the box. When her hands returned, they were holding the ends of an obsidian lamp. It was long buried in dust, but its black edges still gleamed in the flickering candlelight.

There was only one thing to do in a situation like this.

Eagerly, Rowdy rubbed the side of the ornament with her palm. Nothing happened. She rubbed again, and the lamp twitched out of its slumber. Rowdy had to keep a sturdy grip on it as it yawned a thick cloud of crimson smoke from its spout.

The smoke swirled into a tornado. It stretched through the air and split into smaller tornadoes. Two materialized into the legs. Two more materialized into the arms. A rounder set of clouds formed the general details of the torso and head. Her facial structure was the last thing to take form. Her eyelids slowly lifted once she was whole.

The exotic creature was wearing a slave dress fit for a princess. She had a red fiery red bikini matched with an equally fiery set of loose silk trousers. A golden snake charm wrapped around the upper part of her bare right arm. Large gold shackles were chained prominently around her wrists and neck. She wore a three-pointed gold crown that accompanied her large arrow-shaped earrings. Her hair was tied back into a long raven ponytail, which could have been violet in a previous life. She had the eyes of some forgotten local deity whose origins had been weathered off with the harshness of time, leaving only splinters of madness swirling behind her stare. She smelled faintly of fresh jasmine.

"Idst thou thy maiden vessel whichst was begotten from thee thieving docks of Risky Boots?" the genie spoke in a resounding voice. Her hips swayed slowly and hypnotically, moving with the same soft breeze that kept her aloft in the air. The shadows of the candles flicked across her bronzed skin like ocean ripples.

"Uhh… if you're trying to say you're looking for Risky's great-great-great granddaughter, you found the right gal." Rowdy pointed at herself with her thumb.

"And what has become of the queen?" the genie asked coldly.

"Buried at sea around… 70 years ago, I think?" Rowdy scratched her head. "They say they had to tie anchors around the old tart's legs at the funeral to keep her body from floating back up. The whole extended family was there. Made for a hell of a photo album."

The genie gently landed on her pointed slippers. She walking with small, deliberate thrusts in her hips as she approached, stopping when she and Rowdy stood eye-to-eye.

"Lend me your palm," she said simply.

Rowdy hesitated before offering her unfolded hand. The genie studiously ran her finger through the gaps between each of Rowdy's, measuring their distances apart. The genie squinted as she pulled Rowdy's wrist closer and read the lines in her palm, tracing the tiny roads and rivers with painted ruby nails. She pulled a single gold pin from behind her crown and pressed it against Rowdy's fingertip.

"Yeowch!" Rowdy shrieked as she jerked her hand away. "At least warn me if you're going to start doing all that prickly stuff!"

The genie raised the pin to her mouth and placed a drop of blood on her tongue. Her eyes glanced sideways in thought. She slowly nodded.

"Her will sails through your veins," she said. "The curse is fulfilled. I, Lesser Djinn Shantae, shall be your family's devoted slave for as long as your successors live. Any wish you make is my command, Rowdy Goggles."

"How did you know my name? You were supposed to be cooped up in this thing for the last five generations." Rowdy raised her eyebrow in suspicion as she placed the lamp back on the altar.

"A true genie knows all," Shantae said with temptation dripping from her lips. "'Tis only a fraction of the power I have to give you."

"Do you have to keep talking all old-timey like that?" Rowdy asked with a slightly annoyed stare.

"I may speak leisurely if you allow me, mistress." Shantae bowed.

"Yeah, do that please," Rowdy quickly decided.

Shantae wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Her tone lightened in an instant.

"Phew," she sighed audibly. "I never liked that wordy ceremonial stuff anyway."

Rowdy reacted with surprise for a few seconds, but quickly brushed it to be back of her mind. She crossed her arms and leaned with her back against the table.

"So… you're a genie, right?" she started to ponder.

"Everything down to the pointy shoes and the belly button." Shantae smiled.

"And the only reason you exist is to do whatever I want, right?" Rowdy asked.

"That's the deal. Independence and free will went bye-bye for this party girl a long time ago." Shantae responded diligently.

"Could you make me the richest person to ever sail the high seas?" Rowdy asked.

"Easy peasy," said Shantae.

"Could you make me the most feared pirate captain in all history?" Rowdy asked.

"Snap your fingers and it's done," the genie nodded.

"Could you turn all of my enemies into a pile of smoldering ash?" Rowdy asked.

"In 30 minutes or less, and exiling their wretched souls to eternal limbo comes free of charge," Shantae answered with frightening cheerfulness. The flames hiding behind her eyes grew brighter as she rubbed her palms together impishly.

"Could you give me a magic warship with thirty cannons that reload themselves and never run out of ammo?" Rowdy asked.

"Would you like that in Timberwood Cherry or Abyssal Noir?" Shantae answered with enthusiasm.

"Could you turn me into an invincible god-being with the power to change reality with my bare hands?" Rowdy asked.

"Sorry, that one's actually a big nopey," the djinn shook her head. "Balance of the universe and all that stuff. Only us genies can do that. The best I can do is a defense boost and the option to hand me over to your next of kin if it doesn't work."

"Maybe you could teach me some of your dance moves? I heard your kind is good with those," Rowdy offered as a compromise.

Shantae rubbed her chin, then nodded.

"That one's negotiatiable."

Rowdy turned her back to Shantae so she could consider the full implications of the situation to herself. While the genie idly watched the cobwebs sway on the ceiling and hummed to herself, Rowdy plotted the next move. Like any good bloodthirsty pirate, she had to do an equipment inspection before setting out on the next voyage. She checked the edges of her cutlasses, the points of her daggers, the wicks on her flintlocks, and leather laces holding up her masts.

"I'm relieved Risky's eldest heir is a granddaughter," Shantae jokingly said. "I'd probably spend the next fifty years summoning nothing but beer and concubines if you were her grandson."

"So you're really just going to follow me out of here and jump straight into whatever I tell you, huh?" Rowdy asked as she turned toward the genie. "Don't you have some rust to shake off after being locked up in here for so long?"

"Naw. If you had pulled me out of bed during the alignment of Pluto last century, I'd be a total mess, but I just got about 20 years of extra beauty sleep." Shantae waved her hand like it was nothing. "You're looking at one nasty vengeful djinn who's rearin' to go."

Rowdy stopped to ponder for another few seconds, then shrugged.

"Then it's settled, Shantae. Why don't you say we raid and pillage some villagers and dye the seas red?"

"Carving your name in history through ruthless terror. I like that," the genie said maniacally.

They were halfway out of the chamber when Shantae suddenly stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, one more thing," she said. She sprinted back to the altar and picked up the black lamp. She returned to Rowdy's side twice as quickly.

"Keep this with you from now on," the genie said cheerfully. "It helps me stay cozy and lets people know I'm already under contract."

"It's a nice showpiece." Rowdy took the artifact and rolled it in her hands. "Mind if I polish it off and keep it on my mantle?"

"As you wish, master," Shantae replied with a servile bob of her hips.


End file.
